A Study of Adolescence
by Loma101
Summary: A Study illustrating the last days of Annie Edison's adolescence.
1. Chapter 1

The following is a seven chapter study taking place in a four-day time period with the purpose of clarifying and illustrating the last days of Annie Edison as she knew herself in adolescence.

I do not own this show or it's characters.

* * *

DAY 1,  
In which Annie acts like an idiot

Elle W got too drunk, vomited in the bathroom and now the smell is ruining the vibe. Annie hates Elle W. She hates her a-line and her straight teeth and she wishes Elle W would explode, pieces of her body would fly up in the air and hit the wall-

- what the HELL is she doing?

She can't be inside this bathroom thinking like this. This is a legitimate high school party and she has been invited!

She had ONE Dirty Shirley cocktail mixed with ONE pill, because this is an attempt to socialization and she must feel ready to be herself out there. She is ready to laugh with Jill K, if Jill K happens to come talk to her. She doesn't, usually. Because Annie is so uncool, usually. But today Annie is feeling great, and even THE Jill K will notice.

Who knows. She doesn't want to keep her hopes up too high, but maybe even Troy Barnes will walk up to her and talk. Maybe he will see her laughing from across the room and he'll think,  
" Who's that girl?  
Why, that's Annie Edison!  
Well, I'll be damned."  
(No Troy Barnes wouldn't say it like that.)

She fixes her breasts to make sure they are out there. She has stared at her breasts - and those of the others - for long enough to know, to KNOW she has pretty breasts. Hell, she even thinks Dougie D was looking at them yesterday. That Dougie D. He's nasty.

When she looks from her breasts to her face, she suddenly remembers who she is. This is the face that walks on the hallways looking down at her own feet. This face changes her locker combination every 14 days. This face has mostly safe closet choices in safe colors. This face doesn't even own a pair of sunglasses.

But looking at her body again, she remembers what she is doing here.

She puts her jacket back on, folds the sleeves up twice.

She pulls her skirt down a little bit because it keeps moving up when she walks.

She smiles wide and checks for food stuck in her braces. Silly Annie, you haven't eaten anything yet.

She messes with her curly, unruly hair. It worked for Julia Roberts. She looks great. Annie, not Julia. Julia too. Annie definitely looks great. Her lip gloss and her eyes sparkle, there's nothing about herself she doesn't love right now.

Pill.  
Because focus in being herself is important.

In the kitchen, Beyoncé is blasting, Dougie D is laughing at something happening in the living room and turns around. He stares at Annie, smiling for a while. His braces match hers, she thinks this is sweet, although he is still nasty. He hands her a beer in a plastic cup, she smiles at him, thinking _how caring_! He grins at her, leans against the counter. She stays put, looking back. The beer is sour and tastes like sweat, she swallows it arduously.

A while goes by without any words, Dougie D nods and steps away from the counter. Annie watches him walk away thinking why didn't she say anything? What is there to say, anyhow?

Leaning against the counter made him look pretty cool, so she turns around and leans against the counter too. The beer is still sweaty. This makes her laugh.

Jill K walks past her, laughing out loud. Her long, straight hair waves behind her like there is a breeze inside the house. Annie's jaw drops, how she wishes she were cool like Jill K. Jill K isn't even trying. She is just naturally perfect. She is laughing at someone who is still talking to her even though she already walked out of the room. She almost doesn't have make up on, she almost didn't do her hair. She has on a loose fitting pair of jeans, she looks so comfortable and happy. In the kitchen, she opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Grenadine. She examines the cups on the counter, throws a few of them in the trash, picks up a clean one and starts making herself a drink.

Annie hasn't stopped staring at her, wide eyed, so Jill K looks up to her, stares back for a second and smiles.

"Edison," She sings, looking back at her drink, "I didn't even recognize you."

Annie laughs excessively at this flattery.

"Are you having a good time?"

"Yeah!" is her loud answer, followed by a small burp. She covers her mouth, horrified.

Jill K doesn't seem to notice, but pushes a Dirty Shirley across the counter.

"You want this one?" She asks without looking. This is by far THE best moment of Annie's day.  
Week.  
Year.

"Yeah!" She exclaims, looking from Jill to her beer. She doesn't want Jill to be angry at her wasting the beer, so she takes a big gulp of it, as big as she can fit in her mouth and almost chokes trying to swallow it all.

Actually, she is choking. She coughs, leans forward, burps.

"You ok there?"

Annie nods taking the Dirty Shirley and using it to wash away the sweat taste of the beer.

Jill smiles at her - wow - and without any ceremony, walks away from the kitchen carrying two more Shirleys. Annie looks around herself and walks after Jill thinking maybe they could sit together.

She trails around the living room furniture after Jill K, who reaches a couch. Jill K hands Kev a drink and makes out with him. Annie stands next to them, watching. Jill K's hand holds the back of Kev's head and she cocks her head. Annie cocks her head too. She doesn't notice, but she is memorizing the gesture.

"Boo" a voice whispers in Annie's ears and she shouts as if the voice had grabbed her by the waist.

"Phillip! You..." She whispers back, full of anger, but she cannot come up with a word to call him.

"Dick?"

"I wasn't going to say that." She says walking away and leans against a wall, away from Jill K and Kev.

From there, she can see Troy Barnes standing by the porch door, holding a beer in a can. A beer in a can. He is smiling. He could see her if he turned his head just a tiny bit...

Phillip leans next to her with his oversized head and thick blond hair. He smells like the oil he uses to fix bikes. Annie isn't usually repulsed by it, but right now, right now, at this moment, right at this moment, it is inadequate.

She loves her best friend. If it wasn't for Phillip, she would probably go entire days without speaking to anybody else her age.

If it wasn't for Annie, she is almost sure he wouldn't talk much either. Phillip is one of those exceptions. He plays the keyboard. He has a flamboyant laugh. His idols are not sports celebrities, but music divas. To everybody else, Phillip is gay. Annie thinks Phillip is asexual.

She knows he can hear the jokes when they go by and pretends not to hear them. She has never said anything about it, never. In fact, Annie knows the reason why Phillip spends time with her is because she never, never asks him about girls.

"So are you having fun?" Phillip asks ironically. Philip half these girls are bitches and almost all these guys are douchebags.

"Yeah." She answers quietly and looks away.

"Really?"

Annie sighs. She brought Phillip along because coming by herself would've been awkward, but she almost wishes he'd just dropped her off. She sips on her drink looking away while Phillip comments quietly on people around them.

"And Amanda Paul, she must be thinking this is a beach town. Look at that dress! I'll take Amanda Frank over Amanda Paul today."

Annie has almost finished her drink.

"Hello? Did you hear what I said?" Annie has finished her drink, "I said! I'll take Amanda Frank in my-"

"I heard what you said!" Annie shouts. A few people look at them for the first time since they came into the room. Phillip stares at Annie not knowing what to do. Annie looks around herself and sees an audience.

She smiles and looks away from Phillip.

"What the hell was that?"

Annie puts down her empty cup, crosses her arms and turns to Phillip again. She probably still has an audience, she puffs up her chest. Troy might be looking.

"I am just trying! To have a good time."

Phillip stares at her curiously, Annie steps to the side and walks away still with her arms crossed.

Her plan is to cross the living room towards where Troy Barnes is standing and say Hi. That's all it takes to start a conversation, she can't believe she never tried it before. But her audience is avoiding her eyes. They turn away whispering. Are they afraid of her?  
Will Troy be afraid?  
Is she a monster?

Halfway though the room she looks back. Phillip looks away and starts to leave. She takes two steps toward him, turns around, takes two steps toward the patio door. The couch where Jill K was sitting is now on a different side of the room. It's on her way.

It's a trap. That's why it's so crowded, they're about to attack.  
There is not patio anymore. She can feel she's hyperventilating. She doesn't know any of these people. She turns around to look for Phillip, but he's not there. He was by the glass cupboard, but now, there isn't a glass cupboard.

This is a different room. The bathroom door has changed colors, but she knows it's still the bathroom door because she remembers the picture frame inside had a canoe on a river.

The canoe smells like vomit.

It tastes like vomit.

She vomits on the carpet.

Someone screams, maybe even three people.

Hands grab her arms.

Hands hold her face.

They're all mechanical.

She screams.

She smells Phillip.

Now it's ok to faint.


	2. Chapter 2

The following is part of a seven chapter study taking place in a four-day time period with the purpose of clarifying and illustrating the last days of Annie Edison as she knew herself in adolescence.

I do not own this show or it's characters.

* * *

DAY 2, PART 1  
In which we find out Annie's mother is unbalanced.

Philip's old Camry turns the corner as the curtains in Annie's living room close. Her mother has been watching the street and waiting for Philip's car ever since she woke up in the morning and noticed that Annie wasn't downstairs yet.

The car parks to the right of the Edisons' driveway, only Annie gets out. She rushes up the driveway, already holding her keys in her hands. She will be late for school, this is stressing her out.  
And it isn't, is the truth. Being late for this first class won't unsettle her perfect school condition, but it bothers her that there is this part of her that doesn't worry.

She bursts through the door with no concern for what might be happening at her house. Nothing is more important right now than getting her things and leaving in five. Not her mom sitting at the breakfast table with a geology article. Not her dad tired from the 24 hour long trip back home from Seoul. It's books, sweater, car. Which is why she runs from the door straight up the stairs.

Of course, her mother follows her.

She opens Annie's bedroom door as Annie's is crawling into a yellow cardigan. Her books sit on the bed, already ready to leave.

"Mom!" She exclaims half startled.

"Where on Earth have you been, Annie?"

"Mom, I can't explain right now, I'm late for school."

"You're damn right you're late for school!" She sings showing Annie her watch. Every time she has on her reading glasses Annie feels she is looking at a mirror in her mother's face. That is, of course, if Annie had any control whatsoever over the wild mass of hair on her head. Her mother's hair is always tied back, and Annie inherited her father's ears, so even though tying it back would be easy, it would expose yet another part of her for people to make a joke about.

Annie only sighs.

"I was worried dead about you, you didn't answer your phone!"

"I was... having fun. I slept over at Philip's, I told you I might stay over. You said it was ok."

"I did," She repeats to herself, "But I expected a call."

Annie turns around and looks in the mirror for no more than three seconds, fixing the cardigan.

"I'm sorry." She says casually, they both know it doesn't matter. Annie's mother supports Annie's trying to make friends, she has reasons to not worry about Philip, he is a good kid, harmless, great grades. Life is less stressful now that Annie has a friend.

"Your father is back home. He arrived late last night."

Annie has no opinion about this. Her father is in and out of the house all the time, he spends weeks away at a time, always somewhere in Asia, brings them unimportant souvenirs. At the dinner table he talks about some of the funny things people say and do there, talks about inspiring architecture, inspiring people, dirty places. Annie hasn't cared too much about what her father has to say lately. When she was a little girl, she held on to the presents as little treasures from far away, laughed at his stories, asked to hear the oldest ones again. Now, Annie is driven, like her mother. She has a path to follow, a goal, tools to help her keep focused and her mom serves as a daily reminder of what can happen to you if you lack self control, so Annie's got all her bases covered for a good future.

"Well, go and tell him good morning, don't you think he misses you?" She says from the door.

"Okay, okay!" Annie whines. She picks up the books to leave the room, leaving her mother still looking at the mirror from the door. Maybe she was also looking at how much they did look alike. Annie smiles walking down the hall to the study.

* * *

A white lie: Annie tells her father she spent the night at Amanda Frank's house. Amanda Frank used to be Annie's best friend in middle school, before she became a goth. Nothing wrong with goths, it just wasn't Annie's thing. Her father was so vanished from her life nowadays she could keep him from worrying about her spending time at a boy's house by using Amanda Frank's name every now and then.  
And she could trust her mother. No matter what troubles her mother went through, she wouldn't tell Annie's secret. It's just the bond they have. She knows everything about Annie and it was all between them, only.

* * *

She doesn't know how, but there must have been signs she missed. She can usually foresee her mother's bad trips, this time it caught her by surprise.

She ran back home during her lunch break because she decided a shower would clear her Dirty Shirley hangover. Philip gave her a ride home, she had just enough time today to shower and bike back without missing any of her next class.

She bursts open her bedroom door and sees her mother sobbing on the ground, holding her prom dress against her chest.

"Mom!" She shouts

"Oh, my, Annie!" She sobs, turning around.

Annie is solidly alarmed. She stands by the door, unable to walk in, trying to understand and think of what to do next. Her mother starts to get up, holding onto the bed. _Find the first step, take it. You'll be back to school in time if you can focus._ She lifts her glasses, covers her eyes, steps out of her room.

She can still hear her mother sobbing. Out of her pocket she pulls a pill to help her go through this.

This is nothing new. She's gone through this by herself before, several times, when her father wasn't there. It's just a behavior pattern her mother needs to snap out of and she can't snap out of by herself, she needs help. She walks back into her room.

"... and so, SO beautiful." Her mother sobs, sitting against the bed. She must've forgotten about trying to stand up.

"Get up." Annie pulls her by the arm. Pulling her up is hard because one of her mother's hands will not let go of the dress and her knees are shaking.

"Oh, Annie, you know you don't have to do this. Just leave me here."

"Stand. Up." She pulls.

She stumbles with her mother down the hallway into her own bedroom. While they talk, Annie hears for the umpteenth time about prom.  
About the mother-of-pearl dress.  
About the dance.  
The kiss.  
How she knew he was the one.

Annie wishes the house would burn.  
Dress inside it.  
Unrealistic, because her mother would go back for the dress.

Annie rushes into her mother's bathroom and takes the scissors and razor blades. Meanwhile, her mother talks on the bed. Annie turns on the shower, feels the water with her hands, walks out of the bedroom.

"Go inside, take a shower, I'll see you in ten minutes."

She walks to her room, throws all scissors and razor blades onto her bed and walks into her bathroom to take a shower.

Taking the sharp things isn't necessary. Her mother isn't going to hurt herself, she never has. This is only a behavior pattern. What she needs is a shower, a glass of wine and a book. Taking away all sharp things is just part of the rules. It was one of the conditions to have her back home from rehab.

Her mother hates rehab.  
It is the meds they have, they give her a headache.  
It is the other people there, they make her nervous.  
It is the way they treat everybody as a monster.

Sure, Annie cries a little bit in the shower, but only because this little incident has thrown her off track. Sometimes things throw her off track and it's hard to get back. Her mind was driven somewhere and now it's not anymore.

Drying herself, she takes a pill to help her get through this.

It's really not that hard. She'll finish her shower, put on some clothes, check on her mom, leave the house in time for class and everything will be back to normal.  
Counting backwards helps her relax.  
All is well in five,  
four,  
three,  
two,  
one.

She can count it different ways.  
Tiles are still blue,  
Denver is still in Colorado,  
She still has ten toes,  
All's well that ends well.

In fifteen minutes her mother is laying on the bed reading, she might fall asleep soon.

Annie pedals down the street and will be in time for next class.


	3. Chapter 3

The following is part of a seven chapter study taking place in a four-day time period with the purpose of clarifying and illustrating the last days of Annie Edison as she knew herself in adolescence.

I do not own this show or it's characters.

* * *

DAY 2, PART 2  
In which we find out Annie's father is a pig

With her father away from the dinner table, Annie and her mother usually read.

Annie is currently working on a biology report that has her dreaming about cell division, which she thinks is entertaining. She shares this with her mother, who also finds it interesting, and they talk a bit about learning languages while you sleep. They both laugh at this absurdity. Reading at the dinner table usually means that her mother could suddenly share an interesting fact about something random, like three toed sloths or the Zoroastrian Associations of North America.

Her father is still jet lagged. Now that he is older it seems to affect him a bit more harshly. He walks into the dining room twice and fixes himself a bourbon on the rocks. Scratching the back of his neck, he leaves without saying a word. Annie finds this curious, but incredibly pleasant.

After dinner, Annie usually spends time by herself before going to bed. She'll only walk out of the room to say good night. This is the time she usually does her work - school work, extra school work, planning for college. As it gets close to June she usually has less to worry about. This time especially. She worked so hard her senior year that there was not much she needed to do but wait. Which has both a positive side and a negative side.  
Positive because she knows her brain appreciates the break.  
Negative because she finds that having too much time leaves her over analyzing unimportant things.

Like herself.

Annie stands in front of the full size mirror in her room. The same one by which her mother had a meltdown earlier today. Like her mother, she is looking at herself. Like her mother, she isn't too happy about what she sees. How long are awkward adolescent looks supposed to last? She doesn't see this -  
This!  
- as a temporary look.

Her hair is naturally wild, her eyesight is naturally defective. These things aren't going to change. This person isn't going to change. She suddenly thinks about what it would be like to be Annie forever.

She takes a pill to help her go through this, but it's the only one she'll take tonight.

When she takes her glasses off, what she sees isn't that bad. Is it because she'd look better with no glasses on? Or is it because she can't see herself clearly? She knows she's beautiful. She's seen it before. Sometimes, if she stares long enough, she can find it. Once she finds it, she can hold on to it for a little while.

She smiles, but it's not in her smile.  
She pulls her hair back, but it's not on her face.  
She takes off her clothes, but it's not on her skin.

She straightens her back and watches herself stand. She is still. She wonders if there is a name for the pink tone of her skin. She takes off her bra and steps forward to see herself closer,  
and steps back again.  
She thought she was still,  
but her chest moves.  
Because she is breathing.  
It follows a rhythm.  
It might be a bolero.  
She watches her lungs.  
Before she knows it, she's humming Ravel.

And a clink comes from behind her.

She turns around, startled, scared, and runs to the door. It SLAMS shut in a fraction of seconds and her heart pounds inside her chest.

She just saw her father at the door, looking in.

Wide eyed, Annie stands in front of her shut door, almost waiting for something to happen. Her body is stone, heavy and still. She waits for a sound that will either justify or incriminate somebody, but there are no sounds. Annie shakes, as if any movement from her would wake up a monster outside the door. Slowly she steps away from it. She could lock it, but she is too scared. Always facing the door, she gently puts her clothes back on. And she waits.

She waits until her heart moves back to her chest and she can't feel it in her throat anymore.

* * *

"Mom?" She knocks on her mother's bedroom door. No answer. "Mom."

She pushes the door open slowly. Her feet on the white carpet make no sound. The curtains are drawn, a faint light comes from outside, but her mother lays on the bed, on top of the covers, fast asleep with a book by her side. Annie tiptoes to the bed and sits at the edge of it.

"Hey, mom?"

Her mother moans softly and turns her head. Her eyes slightly open, but she shuts them once again.

"Hi, Annie."

"Ah..." Annie plays with her nails for a second, realizing she didn't think much about what she is going to say. She is just agitated and a bit confused, she'd just wanted to talk for a little bit, "So..."

Her mother moves on the bed again and opens one eye. That eye looks curiously at Annie for one second, watches her look away and then look back to her.

"Annie, are you alright?"

"Something weird..." She thinks of her door, "Something just..." She thinks of her door, the mirror, her skin, "I think, I just..."

Her mother sits on the bed, listening and watching carefully now.

"Something weird just happened."

"Something... _weird_ just happened?"

"Yeah..." She looks away again. At the window. The sprinklers turn on and hum by the window. They start a song. It sounds like  
_Tssssss,  
ts ts ts ts ts ts ts ts ts,  
tsssssss_.

"Annie!" Her mother snaps her fingers close to her face, "What's the matter?"

Looking out the window, Annie talks.

"I was just in my room changing..." Her eyes widen, but she still stares away, "I think dad..."_Tssssss,  
ts ts ts ts ts ts ts ts_

"Annie, focus!"

Annie gasps and looks at her.

"I think dad was watching me."

Her mother frowns inquisitively for a while. Then her face comes closer to Annie's. Annie looks down at her own hands, but her eyes follow the blanket up to her mother's hands and up her arms, up to her face, and she is still curiously watching her.

She straightens her back and leans back on the headboard, bringing one hand over her lips, looks at the window and back at Annie. Annie thinks maybe she should say something else, but it's her mother's cue.

Her mother then leans forward and brings her hands to Annie's cheeks, pulling on her face and bringing her eyes to perfectly match her own. Annie is astounded, her eyes dart from side to side.

"What are you taking?"

"Mom!" Annie breaks away from her mother's hands.

She asked more curiously than inquisitively, as if she was the doctor. She knows Annie takes pills. It was her who suggested Annie get help from the beginning.  
Annie crosses her arms and frowns, but doesn't get up from the bed.

"Adderall."

Her mother cocks her head.

"For how long?"

Annie did not feel comfortable speaking with her mother about the pills. It was an imperfection they both had in common, one that they both knew was there but it was not anything Annie wanted to open up about, especially to her. She didn't feel her mother was fit to have any opinion about Annie's use of pills because her mother had no self control whatsoever and every now and then ended up disgracing herself under the influence of prescription drugs. Annie never threw anything at her mother's face and therefore, didn't want anything thrown at her own.

"Annie."

Annie crosses her legs and shakes one of her feet showing impatience. Unfortunately for Annie, her mother is incredibly knowledgeable, and there is not ONE hint Annie could ever recognize that would be a sign of a fact being wrong. Every time her mother spoke, Annie took it as the truth.

"Was your father _really_ at the door?"

Annie looks away and sighs deeply. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, and what she means is to leave the conversation before it becomes embarrassing. Her mother also sighs, and takes off her reading glasses.

"Can you close that door for a moment?" She says pointing with the tip of her nose.

Annie closes the door softly, not forgetting to look down the hallway first, and walks back to the bed.

"There is something important I need to tell you about your father, on an unrelated note."

She leans forward, so does Annie. She closes her eyes and holds the bridge of her nose. She sighs.

"This isn't easy to say, and I know it won't be easy to hear. I understand whatever you choose to feel about this, but I must ask you to consider..." She opens her eyes and puts her hand on Annie's hand, "I _need_ you to consider that we all live together in this house, and this isn't going to change."

"Gosh mom..."

"So whatever you decide to do with this information, you need to remember if you cause any conflict, it will be a conflict that you will live with for as long as you are here. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah..."

She lets go of Annie's hand and covers her lips with it again, giving Annie a frustrated sigh.

"Can you show me a minimal amount of maturity, Annie, so I don't regret sharing this with you?"

Annie is taken aback.

"Yes, mom."

Annie's mother looks out the window for a moment.

* * *

Annie bursts into her room and slams the door behind herself. She isn't going to scream but she puffs loudly and after stomping a lap around her room aimlessly, she drops on the bed and shoves her face into a pillow. There she sobs with nobody being able to hear her. She even ventures a scream. And then three more, to prove to herself that it's her own choice.

She doesn't need to stand up. Her arm outstretches to her night table and inside the drawer, behind her planner and a journal, she finds them. She pops it out and takes it. She needs all this shit to be second plane. She needs to bring herself to first plane again. She takes off her glasses and shoves her head into the pillow again, sobbing and shaking.

Then she jumps up and takes a deep breath. Her hands are fists, she puffs in front of her mirror.

You are a strong, determined woman, Annie Edison and none of this is bigger than you.

Her chest puffs up.

Her hands still fists.

You are what really matters.

The skin on her face.

Her veins.

None of this matters.

Her father at the door.

Hallucinations.

Her chest breathes.

Her hands, fists.

You are more important.

Thailand.

Her skin.

Another wife.

Her fists.

Another family.


	4. Chapter 4

The following is part of a seven chapter study taking place in a four-day time period with the purpose of clarifying and illustrating the last days of Annie Edison as she knew herself in adolescence.

I do not own this show or it's characters.

* * *

DAY 3  
In which Annie loses her virginity

Ever since she remembers, Annie has worked like a clock. She can foretell her mothers crises like she can circle the day she'll get her period next August. She allows no room for deviation, she knows there will be none.

That is how she manages to have harmony and balance all the time.  
Confidence.  
And focus.

Every now and then, disasters happen to test her.

Like when the wind blew her first grade science project from the balcony.  
Like when her first period came in seventh grade and she was wearing light blue jeans.  
Like the first time her dad wasn't there when her mom got upset.

And does Annie ever accept all is lost?  
Never.  
She succeeds.

And are these _victories_ in Annie's life?  
No.  
They're milestones.

And how does Annie manage in times of crisis? Focus.

Her harmony is broken a bit now, because her father apparently has a family going on in Thailand. For years. Their kid is about ten years old. Ten. For ten years _at least_ her family - her foundation - for _ten_ years is has been a lie.  
And her mother has been part of that lie now for all ten years.

It's not as revolting as it is confusing. Annie keeps trying to understand all the reasons, and the reasons she gathers are not ever appealing. So she's mostly confused and can't help but keep trying to understand.

Understand. It's something she usually does so well. So easily.

_This_ confusion in particular is requiring so much from her, she couldn't help it. She had to take more pills. This is _one_ example of why she does what she does. Her life requires more, sometimes. Her father being away, her mother freaking out. She needs more than what he prescribes.

She wouldn't be cheating prescriptions if he understood how much she really does need them.

The side effects include being completely stunned by details - where things are, what their color is - to a level of paranoia sometimes. And no sleep.

She understands this paranoia, but she is still holding open scissors to a chunk of her hair,  
about to cry because she just isn't sure if she really does hate this hair,  
or if it's just the drugs talking.

As her heart  
beats  
speed up a  
bit  
and the blades  
touch  
that chunk of  
hair  
and her eyes  
shut  
just look  
away  
and get it  
done

a crash outside surprises her and her eyes open wide.

No scissors, no hair, she forgets everything, rolls a towel around herself and flings the door open on her race down the stairs.

She has a sixth sense for these things. Or maybe it's just routine.

"Mom?" she shouts landing on the living room.

Her father walks away from the bar scratching his graying hair. His face is flushed, he looks down and then up to Annie, who is standing at the entrance of the living room. Her mother is laying on the couch. Annie feels now more than before that her mother is her responsibility and more than anything she wants to walk to the couch and check on her, help her up to her room. But her father's presence in the middle of the room tells her to wait until he is gone.

He stands, a glass that is probably bourbon on the rocks in his hands. He looks from Annie to her mother, back to Annie.

"Your mom needs some rest."

"What happened?"

"She got upset." He says matter of factly, pointing to her laying on the couch.

"Why?"

Her father crosses his arms and puffs up his chest. Annie is not in the mood to ignore the contradictions. This isn't how it usually happens. She gets upset, she is redirected. Why is she just laying on the couch, did she pass out? Did she feel sick?

"We had an argument. She was crying. We held each other for a little while, next thing I know she passed out in my arms."

Bullshit, Annie thinks, and she doesn't need to deal. She walks to the couch.

"Mom? Mom?"

Her mother is breathing slowly, her face is pasty and pale. When Annie shakes her, she moans a little, which is a relief, because apparently, there is nothing very wrong about her condition. Her father shakes his head and starts walking away, slowly.

"Leave her be, Annie." He mutters.

"Are you going to clean up that shattered bottle of wine right there?"

Instead of looking back to see his reaction, she stares at her mother for a little bit. She is just asleep and will probably stay asleep for one or two hours. It happens after too many pills and sleepless nights. Annie decides the best thing to do is just walk away - her other option right now is to stay and socialize with her father until her mother comes to.

So in a few minutes Annie is on her bike flying down 38th Avenue to Elm, one of the largest streets in Riverside, the first of only three streets to Philip's house. Riverside isn't busy on a Saturday morning, except for the Farmer's Market, which Annie avoids by taking a back alley. Annie has pedaled nearly this entire town, she knows each street and intersection around her neighborhood and is confident flying past stop signs and turning around corners without checking for pedestrians.

She definitely took a pill to help her deal with this.

At Philip's house she locks the bike by the shed, rings the bell only once and patiently waits with her hands behind her back. Philip's mother is sometimes very difficult to please and extremely defensive about who Philip hangs around with. Annie is mostly welcome there, because of her grades, because of the money her family has, because she knows how to have a cordial conversation, but sometimes his mother surprises her with a sour comment about her looks, her hair, her choice of outfit. Although Annie is usually startled when this happens, she knows it's probably because she comes across as Philip's girlfriend. His mother has never asked, but she also never interrupts when they are together in his room.

Truth is, like now, Annie goes there to run away. What she is doing is spending time with her best friend.

Philip's room looks like an old office, with a huge wooden desk, which he filled with electronics, an old smelly closet, a single bed, a shelf with tools and bike parts, and Annie's favorite thing: an old Casio keyboard that used to belong to his father before he passed.

In the days when Annie doesn't know what to do with herself, she comes over and lays on the bed to listen to Philip talk. Philip can spend an entire afternoon speaking while recording DVDs and ordering bicycle parts. He'll just speak and speak and Annie will laugh staring at the ceiling. She'll open up sometimes. Philip knows her mother occasionally freaks out, and he also knows Annie takes medication- occasionally. Annie likes to talk to him because nobody else reacts to her stories the way he does.

"Maybe she freaked out because of the way your hair looks." He mumbles screwing pieces of metal together.

"Shut up!" Annie shouts from the bed, tossing a pillow at him.

"Hey!" He dodges and checks his work, "Be careful, Annie!"

Philip has spent the greater part of the past week building a small truck, but all he has is the insides. It looks nothing like a truck to Annie and since mechanics isn't her favorite subject, she prefers to ignore the importance of the metal skeleton on his desk. She lays back down and gets lost in her thoughts.

From her pocket she pulls out the third pill she's taken since she rang the doorbell.  
It's not that she needs it.  
It's just that for the first two minutes after she takes it, she has everything under control.

"What's on your mind?"

Annie shrugs.

Philip's shoulders drop and he puts down his screw driver. His office chair spins so he's looking at Annie laying on his bed. She knows that he knows how she feels, that's why he doesn't say anything.

Instead of speaking, Philip stands and walks to his father's keyboard. Annie knows he is doing this for her. She asked him so many times to play something when she didn't want to talk. Piano concertos, theme songs, he knew a repertory of about 30 songs, he would always ask her what she wanted to hear, she would shrug most of the time.

He turns on the keyboard, white noise comes from the speakers. He fixes the chair, steps on the right pedals, fixes his back. Annie moves her body and sits on the bed. Her arms are crossed and now, she's his audience.  
He tries the first notes, fixes the volume.

Annie's favorite.

She doesn't love to admit that her favorite song Philip can play is _Don't cry for me, Argentina_, by Madonna.

The saddest song he can play.

He doesn't sing the song, ever. She knows the words and sings them in her mind.

_It won't be easy,  
you'll think it strange_  
_When I try to explain how I feel_

Annie follows the melody with her eyes closed. She's asked him to play this so many times. He always said it was a sad song, she knew he'd realize soon that's why she loved it the most. It isn't a song as much as it is a cry.

_Running around trying everything new_  
_But nothing impressed me at all_

"There's something that's really bothering you, isn't there?"

_I never expected it to_

"I don't want to talk about it." She answers dryly. He sighs, shakes his head looking attentively at the keys.

_All through my wild days, my mad existence_

"But it's more than just your mom."

She doesn't answer because it isn't a question and she already said she doesn't want to talk about it. She feels her eyes fill with tears though, and she tries hard to breathe slow so they don't roll down her face.

But it's hard to help it when each note sounds like tears  
And each verse sounds like a cry  
And each cry reminds her of..

She doesn't know what.  
They just remind her she hates being here  
She hates being her  
She hates being Annie

The impulse to run away for Annie is the hardest to control. She doesn't ever know what to do with herself when it comes.

In the bathroom, she cannot remember the last time she ever stood up before this song was over. Leaning against the light blue sink, she stares at her dull, tired eyes. Why does she always look exhausted? And does she always look this sad? She sighs. From inside her pocket, she pulls out a little bottle, uncaps it and drops a light orange pill onto her hand. It says AD on the side.

After swallowing it, she sighs and sits down on the toilet, leans against the wall watching the bathroom.

It has always been very blue: blue tiles, blue sink, light blue shower curtains.  
On the ground is a wicker basket with a few magazines. Hanging from the ceiling is a house plant, it's branches spilling out. On the wall a medicine cabinet.

Inside the cabinet Annie finds a box of condoms. This makes her frown in curiosity and then smile, as if she'd found her brother's stack of porn. She picks it up, looks at it, inside it.

What does Philip use this for?

Annie walks out of the bathroom and back into Philip's room. An old Madonna album is playing softly while Philip has gone back to his skeleton truck. Annie walks to stack of cushions by the closet and sits down leaning against the wall.

"Why are there condoms in your bathroom?" She asks smiling.

"What?" He asks still with his back to her.

Annie laughs.

"You have a box of condoms in your bathroom."

"Yeah..?"

"Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." He laughs.

Annie frowns, finally understanding.

"You have sex?"

Philip's office chair turns around again. He has a look on his face that embarrasses Annie, making her wish she hadn't asked. Has she crossed the invisible line between them?  
Is she asking about a girlfriend?  
Is she asking about a boyfriend?

"I'm sorry." She says looking down.

"Sorry about what?" He chuckles.

"It's none of my business."

"I have sex. I'm a seventeen year old male."

"I don't care."

But she does because she cannot imagine who Philip would ever be having sex with. She knows everything about him, she thought she was his only friend. She sees him every day and knows what he is doing most of the time. This makes no sense. Has he been hiding a relationship from her? Why?

"Having sex is a normal part of life, you know?"

"I know." She answers, wishing this subject could be over.

"You'll have sex some time." He says, entertained by making her uncomfortable.

"I know, stop it."

He laughs, turning around.

"It's not hard, either."

"Shut up."

"Serious. You wouldn't even need your attention pills."

Annie crosses her arms and looks away for a while.

"I'd probably suck at it." She mumbles.

Philip spins the chair around again to face the bed.

"You? No. You wouldn't." He laughs

"Yes I would, I'm the most awkward human being." Annie defended herself.

"I guarantee you'd do great." Philip laughs again.

"Why do you say that?"

Philip just shrugs like a little boy, looking around himself.

"I don't know."

"Are you good at it?"

"The best."

Annie chuckles, "Right."

"No, serious." Philip raises his hands.

"You're that good, huh?"

"Swear to God."

"How come?"

Philip shrugs again.

"I just... know what to do. It's a natural talent.

Annie smiles glaring at Philip. He smiles back from the chair and stands up. He walks to the corner where Annie is sitting. The walls have turned yellow with the setting sun outside, he leans against the wall and slides down to sit on the ground by her.

"Here. Let me show you."

"What? No, thanks." She says moving to the side. A breeze moves the curtains a bit, Annie pushes them away from her face.

"I'm not gonna have sex with you, Annie. I'm just going to show you something. It might come in handy." He has his hands up in a harmless sign. Annie chuckles and looks to the side, purposefully not stating yes or no. She leans back on a cushion, still with her arms crossed, her head rests against the closet door.

"Annie. Edison. You _know_ you can trust me. Close your eyes. I'm just gonna touch your hair."

Annie softly closes her eyes and sighs.

Philip touches her hair softly, his fingers running along her waves. Annie is surprised at how comforting it feels to have someone touch her hair, her body relaxes a bit and she lets out a loud sigh. With her eyes closed, she can feel it even more, and she can also smell Philip. Letting his fingers run through her locks she recognizes the smell of sandalwood and a small tinge of the grease he uses for his work. It isn't unattractive, to her surprise.

"That feels good." She murmurs.

"Yeah, your hair feels good." He answers matter of factly. His fingers brush against her face, "Sorry."

"That's ok."

So he moves his fingers down the side of her face, following her hair a few times. After a while, he touches her neck.

"That feels weird."

"Ok, sorry," He says and lets go of her neck to touch her hair again, "I'm gonna try something, you gotta tell me if it bothers you."

"Ok..." She answers suspicious, now half laying down on the cushions. She uncrosses her arms.

"Don't try to... suffer anything, you gotta tell me if it's uncomfortable."

"Ok, Phil!"

"And don't open your eyes!" He whispers and this time, when his fingers reach the tip of her hair, they continue running down her shoulders, her arms and reaches her breast. He softly runs his fingers around her breast over her shirt, "This alright?"

"Yeah." She whispers, trying to sound as casual as possible.

So he does it again, using his hand. Annie's teenage, 17 year old body inhales deeply and almost smiles, never having been touched like this before, figuring for the first time that her body can actually make her feel good. Without realizing it, Annie's breaths become shallow. She can't tell yet, but it's pleasure she's feeling, at the hands of somebody else.

"You want to feel it?" He murmurs, and his hand runs to her hand, which was resting on top of her stomach. She slightly opens her mouth to, but doesn't protest. He brings her hand to her breast and guides her. His fingers cross hers and with her eyes shut, she fondles herself. "Do you like how it-"

"Yeah." She says smiling.

"I'm gonna teach you how to do it." He softly says, "Can I touch under your shirt?"

Annie opens her eyes. The room is orange and the noise she heard were the curtains softly swaying. A faint beat of Madonna still plays on the background. She is brought back to Philip's room, where the desk is old, the skeleton truck is unfinished, the old keyboard is not turned off. His eyes are deep blue and he is laying next to her. His hands holding hers. She looks at him because she doesn't know what to answer. "Come on, close your eyes, please?"

"Why?"

"Because it's awkward if you don't." He chuckles, she laughs and closes her eyes again.

So his hand slides down and feels her waist on top of her shirt first, slowly lifting it and feeling her skin from her stomach all the way to her bra. Annie's hands, which were sitting on op of her chest, let go of herself and lay to the side of her head, involuntarily trying to get out of Philip's way, letting him play with her body. Without her noticing, her breathing becomes louder and her back straight. Her hips move a bit, she doesn't notice that either. She isn't thinking at all.

Laying on the ground, Annie is just a young girl being touched for the first time.

"You want me to teach you something else?"

"Yes."

"Can I touch your legs?"

She waits a second and nods. He takes his hand from her breast and touches her thigh. With the tips of his finders, he runs up her thigh towards her underwear. His hands run down again. She is tense and he can feel it, so his hands carefully feel her legs a few times, innocently until he notices she feels more comfortable.

When she does, his hands reach her underwear and play with the lace of it for a while. Annie smiles awkwardly and brings her hand to her face, covering it from his eyes.

"All right, you want me to stop? I can stop." He mumbles, taking his hands away from her and sitting back.

Annie props herself up and opens her eyes, looking at him curiously, deciding what the proper thing to say was, a bit torn between what would be correct and what she really wanted to happen. Her mind was dancing around the idea that this wasn't really wrong or embarrassing.

"Why?" She asks softly and casually.

"You want me to go on?" He says turning his head lazily.

"Do _you_ want to go on?"

Philip shrugs and looks away for a second.

"Uhm... it's..." He mumbles looking at and away from Annie. She is suddenly very embarrassed and her face starts to feel flushed. She sits up in a hurry and fixes her clothes avoiding Philip's look. She may, she just may be about to cry, she can't believe she just let him touch her like that.

"No, Annie, wait, wait!" He says sitting up and trying to reach for her hands, "It's just...", Annie glares at him, sad and embarrassed, "It's just... I'm hard."

Annie frowns trying to understand. He laughs and blushes so fast Annie is alarmed. He does not mean what she thinks he means. "Oh, my." She mutters to herself.

He turns around and stuffs his head into the pillows they were just laying on. A muffled laugh comes from beneath. Annie can't help but giggle too. "I'm sorry!" He mumbles. She giggles even more and lays back down.

And she feels great. Annie Edison, although awkward looking and somewhat socially impaired at times, has just made a boy hard. Satisfied, she lays back smiling and closes her eyes again.

"We could go on if you want." He sings, his face half buried in the pillows.

Annie turns her head to the ceiling and smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

The following is part of a seven chapter study taking place in a four-day time period with the purpose of clarifying and illustrating the last days of Annie Edison as she knew herself in adolescence.

I do not own this show or it's characters.

* * *

Day 4, Part 1

In which everything starts falling apart.

No more pills.

This is Annie's first decision as a woman, which is how she feels right now. Annie now is a woman, not anymore a girl.

She remembers yesterday, when she was a girl. She was so nervous, she was insecure. She was loathed how she looked, how she spoke, how she moved, she was unhappy about herself, her hair, her face, her skin.

And now. Now everything was different. Now she had more resources. She didn't only have brains - brilliant brains - and her pills - which she, up until last night, thought she depended on. Now she knows, hell, she didn't need the pills, all this time all she needed was to believe in herself and what she was able to do.

Although she understands. Up until yesterday she was all this... woman, all this potential, all this strength, compressed into one Annie's body and struggling with herself through everything: her mom, her classes, her life.

Now she realizes, she was better than this, all along. All she needed was a deep

long

breath.

She can't help but smiling. Her body moving up the steps. The cement steps she's known all her life. Grey. Dry. The garden to her left. The driveway to her right. This place she's always called home. She's been here all along, she's been a great person all this time and she just  
couldn't  
see it.

She opens the door to her house.  
(To her parent's house)

She won't live here for too long, what with going away to a University soon, but different than yesterday, now she feels ready.

Ready to leave.  
Ready to arrive somewhere else.  
Ready to smile at people and talk and become something great.

Because before, she hated this shell she lived in and now, she doesn't. Simple as that.

And the entrance echoes like it always did. And the tiles on the first floor are mostly beige. And her mother's paper is sitting on the counter as it always is. And maybe from now on she will not be amazed by her mother's points of view, but rather involved. From now on, their conversations are adult and experienced.  
(But, oh, Annie, you have so much to learn.)

"Where the hell have you been?" Her father's inquisitive voice echoes from the dining room to the left.

But Annie doesn't need to rush. She walks to the room, light as a feather, she's done nothing wrong. She smiles.

"Out." She says.

"I called your phone about twenty times."

"Hmm." She chants finally entering the room with her father on the other side of a long oak dining room table illuminated by a sky ceiling above them. Everything feels light, "Maybe you called my old number twenty times, but not my new one."

"Your mother is in rehab again."

Annie stops, "What?", She leans on the oak table, her father stands on the other side.

"She had a fit last night, you'd know if you'd answered the phone." He continues, he needs no information about his teen daughter and her telephone number, he needs only to inform. His chest puffs up, Annie will remember this moment as her father speaking while smoking a cigar, but in reality he has his hands in his pockets.

Annie starts breathing faster and holding herself up with her palms on the table. She needs to know more because she doesn't understand.

"What?" She repeats.

"What do you want me to say, Annie? She was here, one minute we were talking, next thing I know she's throwing a fit, she can't communicate, she can't calm down. She was unbalanced, she was out of control. I tried to let you know. I called Cedar Center and they..."

"Cedar Center?" Her mother hates Cedar.

"What did you expect me to call, National Jewish?"

Her mother is terrified of National Jewish after a woman on her floor gauged he eye out with a spoon. In fact, Annie was terrified too.

She panted looking around her. Rehab, again, in the end of freaking spring. How was she supposed to deal? What was she supposed to do? She was sure her mother didn't really need it. She was taken against her will. In the middle of the night. Her mother must have been terrified, definitely looking for her. Had she cried, pleading her father to let her stay?

This seemed to take all the blood from Annie's body. Her mother, terrified in the night, not a clue where Annie was, taken away. Now she had visiting hours. Now she had controlled phone calls. Now she had a gown, a room, scheduled meds, a buddy, a nurse. Now she was a hospitalized addict again. She wasn't ready for it.

She was not ready for it.  
Annie isn't ever ready for it.

Annie runs into her room and throws herself in the bed crying. Not crying, hollering into her covers. Not because she hated anything in particular. Not her father for calling Cedar Ceter. Not her mother for being how she is. Not anything for being what it is. Just everything.

She screams.

She hates it.

She hates it all.

A room and a number.

A tag around her wrist.

Scheduled meds.

Barred windows.

A gown.

Removed sharp objects.

A nurse.

No Annie. Annie was gone the whole night. Annie was having sex.

Annie hollers. She wanted to be there. She wanted to be there to fix her mother a warm shower and a glass of wine. If anything, hold her hand in the car while she cried on her way to Cedar. Again.

The last time they cried together in the back seat. They held hands. Annie promised to visit, always. And she did. This time her mother had cried alone, wondering where Annie was. What had gone through her head?

After the screaming ends, Annie sobs for about an hour. Her room is warm, on her pillows are sweat and tears and she sobs wondering if she will ever stop sobbing. She hasn't moved for a couple of hours when her father knocks on the door.

She doesn't answer at first, maybe he'll just go away. But he'd knocks incessantly and starts calling her name.

Normally she would give a fuck whether she was crying or not when she talked to him - only her mom saw her cry, her dad lost that priviledge years ago - but she just shouts back, in a broken voice.

"What?"

"I need to go."

Unable to breahte controllably, Annie isn't surprised. She just closes her eyes.

"I have to go. Back to Seoul. I... don't want to leave you like this. You know I hate this too."

No you don't.

"I called your grandmother, she's on her way from Missouri. She's taking a flight tomorrow evening."

Great.

Annie turns her head.

"You know I want to be here with you..."

It takes everything Annie has, all the strength and all the insanity, but she yells at the door.

"Shut up!"

And having no response, she shouts longer and louder.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut UP!

"Annie..." Her father starts after a moment of silence.

"Go! GO! Go to fucking Seoul. Or go to fucking Bangkok! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!"

"Annie!" He reprimands.

"Go and fucking move in with your other family! We're all better off without you!"

And she breaks into sobs again and turns her head away from the door. A few seconds pass and she finally opens her eyes to realize what she has just done. She breaths deeply expecting something to happen and suddently she feels as if she has thrown an explosive at everything. She ruined everything, her mother trusted her with a big, important piece of their family history and it took her less than a day to ruin everything. Her breathing is heavy, but she holds it in for a while, listening to what her father has to say.

Her father has nothing to say. Maybe he walked away. Maybe he is still thinking of a response. Regardless, there insn't one and the silence gives Annie time to reconsider and realize her ignorance wasn't necessary and her mother will be so, so disappointed in her. Not for deciding to say something, because Annie didn't decide anything. For not being able to control herself and spilling it out, not being able to contain it. Clearly this was too much for her. And how Annie hates failure. How she hates to think and admit that it was to much for her to handle. If only she had focused more.

If only she had focused at all.

She slips into a deep dark sleep that is heavy and quiet inside her. Like she's fallen into a hole and she has no possible way to get out of it.


	6. Chapter 6

The following is part of a seven chapter study taking place in a four-day time period with the purpose of clarifying and illustrating the last days of Annie Edison as she knew herself in adolescence.

I do not own this show or it's characters.

* * *

Day 4, Part 2

In which things are still falling apart.

Slowly, she became aware of her body.

First the tips of her fingers. Then she moved her arms. After, she stretched her back and reflexively turned her head the other way.

First she felt the faint breeze blowing into her dim bedroom in the mid morning. She sniffed as a reflex of the crying, which she could still feel on her throat and face. Hey eyes opened slightly.

She saw her father at the desk chair, slouched over her open journal on her desk.

She shifted her body and lifted herself up, surprised to see her father inside at first, then looking at the little book in his hands.

"What are you doing?" She murmurs startled. He only waves his head. "Dad! Dad, what are you doing?!"

"She turned you into an addict."

Annie stands up and carefully, but frightened, and walks towards the desk.

"What are you reading? Why are you reading that?"

Her father forcibly rubs his face.

"You shouldn't have read that, dad."

Her father stands up and faces her.

"How long have you been taking Adderall?"

"Calm down, dad, please."

"What else have you been taking? Have you been taking anything else?" He steps toward her and stands very close. In his hand, waving it in the air, he holds her journal - a page-per-day by Moleskine that already by Spring is worn out, has receipts hanging from it and an organized control of what Annie takes every day. Her mother keeps a calendar in her office, but has no idea how much she is taking unprescribed. So Annie keeps a tab - with graphs she calculates weekly - of how much she is taking. This journal is sacred. It stays inside her bag, by her chest at all times.

"How long have you and this..." He pulls the journal back to his face, flips the pages wildly, "...Philip, been sleeping together?"

"Dad, please!" She shouts, offended by the connotation the question had, "We aren't... sleeping together" Annie raises her hands in defense, cornered against her window. "It only.."

He brings it back to his face and raises his voice, quoting from the book.

"Sex! Is! Amazing!"

"You have to let me speak, dad!"

"What is going on in this house while I'm gone?" He shouts looking up, resorting to the ceiling for an explnation, "Annie Edison!" He lowers his voice in disappointment, and then shouts waving her journal in front of her face, making her flinch against the wall "You stole a prescription pad!"

Annie, not knowing what to do, screams back.

"What the hell do you think? I'd be sane? I'd be fine?"

"What are you talking about, Annie?"

"You found yourself another family, you ruined this house!"

He glares at her apologetically. Panicking, not having resorted to anything to help her focus for so long and through so much, Annie screams at his face.

"It's _your fault_! It's _not_ mine! _Not_ mom's! _Yours_! _You_ found another family!  
Then mom lost it!  
Then I lost it!  
All because of _you_!"

"Annie!" He roars, "You need to stop talking like this right now."

"Don't tell me what to do!" She hollers.

So he slaps her across the face. For a very small moment everything is still, but Annie isn't taking a slap on the face silently, especially one coming from a pig.

She screamed first. First at herself. Then she roared at him, not having what else to do.

"I hate you!" She screams, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

He turns around and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind himself. Annie falls to the ground holding her face. It stung like it caught fire for a moment, but now it's burning out slowly.

She never wants to see her father's face again.  
She wants to walk away from this house and never come back.  
She wants to leave right now.

But calm down, Annie. Take a deep breath. There is a place where you think about this with less fear and more focus.  
There is a way to channel this euphoria and make it a good decision, and there is a way to do it creatively.


	7. Finale

The following is part of a seven chapter study taking place in a four-day time period with the purpose of clarifying and illustrating the last days of Annie Edison as she knew herself in adolescence.

I do not own this show or it's characters.

* * *

Day 4, Part 3

In which these things end

The answer comes to her in the blink of an eye once she freshens her mind up with one single orange pill -and by the way, this serves to remind Annie of the often neglected fact that the longer she goes without one, the more effective they are. Usually this control skill would come to a teenager deprived of money for weed for a week, but Annie Edison feels it after going over 12 hours without an attention drug.

Its useless to try to run away now. True, at this point, her mother in rehab again, her father running to his other family, the slap across her face, her own addiction (which she is willing to admit to herself is a problem she will have to deal with), all this is piled up and weighing down on Annie, but she cannot run away from it. She needs to stay and deal with the problems one at a time.

The first thing to do, being the bigger person and having no option but staying under her fathers roof - her terrible excuse of a father- is to lower her head, apologize and ask that he forgive her tantrum. She recognizes she still needs to do it.

Next, having created this demon herself, she needs to show him she is ready to face her problem. She needs to promise him shell get help, give him the prescription pads and face creative consequence he will decide on. Which leads to the parallel part of this plan, hiding a few pills before handing him all the bottles. She only needs enough to face the rest of the school year, she will take less from now on and after the school year is over, she will recover in small doses and heal. She wont need them anymore when she's out of this place.

That's the second part of the plan: as soon as her school year is over and she leaves to University (and Annie is confident she will get anywhere she chooses) she and her mother are starting a new chapter. She is healing herself and then healing her mom, they are leaving, as far away as possible, and little by little her mother will recover and after, she'll get a job. She'll teach again, like she did before her father messed up their lives. Thailand will never matter again once Annie and her mom are gone away from her father's shadow.

Annie can almost see her new life now. Sunny days, biking to class, meeting with her mother for lunch, birds chirping out the window, discussions about new species and old cultures. Both safe and sound, sane and independent. They can do this together.

It all starts at this moment, when Annie hears her fathers luggage roll down the hallway, down the stairs, the front door closing, the garage door opening, she runs to the window and watches the Pathfinder go up the driveway and take a left.

Sighing with relief, Annie feels light walking away from the window and stepping out of her room. She looks down the hallway and back at her room, feeling this is her old house. She doesn't care what's wrong with it, the yellow tone of her room, the spots on the carpet, the faint little dust specks in the air, you can only see them because of the large glass panels on the ceiling. She had a beautiful house growing up, she made happy memories. She walks down the hallway, towards her mothers room, running her fingers on the wall with a great nostalgic smile on her face.

Once an eight year old Annie made a poster inviting her parents to a flute concerto in her yellow room. She hung the poster on this hallway, each song cost a quarter, shed played requests from a list of about seven titles she had learned. She made about $5, 00 and put it away in her piggy bank in the shape of a Disney character shed gotten at a Disney store in Paris the year before.

Inside her mothers room, she walked to the bed. Growing up, when her father was traveling, they'd arrange sleepovers between the two of them. Elaborate sleepovers, where a little basket of cookies and two cups of chocolate milk would be placed onthe nightstand - which was strictly forbidden so they kept it a secret. Snuggled up on the bed, they would watch a movie, during which most of the times Annie's mother would fall asleep and Annie would be in charge of turning off the eletronics and the lights whenever she wanted.

Walking into the bathroom Annie briefly looks at the tub, remembering an incident with a broken wine glass, but quickly turns her face away from that memory. Her eyes meet the counter and the sink, and she fondly thinks of when she was very little and her mom gave her occasional hair cuts in front of the mirror, using a spray bottle and pair of scissors. The scissors are not a very happy thought, since they instantly steer Annie's mind to removing sharp objects from that very counter - and she quickly decides to walk away from the bathroom.

Inside the room, which belongs to her mother entirely, she believes, with her father occasionally sleeping over like she used to, she starts walking to the window. On the way there, impulsively, she reaches into her pockets, looking for a quick fix of her changing mood. Interestingly enough, the bottle is still there, although Annie is sure she left it on top of her bed.

But that doesn't matter now, she takes one, reaching the window. The full sized mirror to her left startles her, because for one split second, her mother appears in it. But no, its just herself. And she realizes this is funny, turning to it and staring at her own eyes. Amazingly, she is staring at the spitting image of her mother. Her eyes are bulgy and red. She doesnt feel that they should be but isn't surprised, after al that she cried and screamed just five minutes ago

(Or an hour?)

Her hair is pulled back. This amazes Annie as well. She didn't pull it back, or she can't remember doing it. But again, this isn't a big surprise, considering she usually ties it before showering. Maybe she was about to shower.

She can't emember, but it could be, because when she feels out of herself she showers and pours herself a glass of wine before lying down. She just needs redirection sometimes, she is completely capable of dealing with it.

In fact, there is the wine bottle which she placed on top of the nightstand, along with a metal cork opener bought in the Bahamas, the curlicue letter elaborately carved onto the silver tool by a big dark man who probably depended on crafts and tourism to feed his children.

Stop that, Annie, you can't make generalized assumptions like that. You know nothing about this man, she think holding the bottle opener, or his childen. Just open the bottle and pour yourself this glass of wine.

She isn't sure if she should pour yet, because she can't remember taking the shower. She brings her fingers to the back of her head to check.

The bottom part of her bun is cold and wet, so yes, she has alreay taken the shower, which is why she is holing the bottle opener in the first place. Nevertheless, this gives her a chill. She sighs a bit scared and dutifully starts uncorking the bottle. Having so much experience, Annie can usually uncork the bottle with her eyes closed, but today she struggles. Her heart is racing a bit, she pulls the opener harder, groaning as the cork slides out.

It pop and crashes, instantly telling Annie she did it wrong. Wine bottles shouldn't pop like champagne bottles.

She looks down and can't find the origin of the crash, because the bottle is still in one piece, perfectly opened. The wine glass is also intact. Annie looks around herself, confused, positive that she heard a crash. Her heart beats faster and when she realizes she knows where it came from. She is scared and doesn't move for a while, but listens. There is no sound, she is still alone, so she takes slow steps toward the bathroom.

She doesn't walk in, but stands at the door, leaning in to look for it.

Broken pieces of glass lay inside the tub, the base and the stem are intact, but the bowl is shattered into a thousand pieces, by a small, red stain which is finding its way into the driain. Annie sobs and tears roll down her face.

She turns around and circles the bed towards the empty wine glass patiently waiting on the nightstand. She tilts the bottle and fills up about a third of it. The cork gets pushed back in.

From where she stands, she sees inside the closet the mother of pearl dress, hanging from the same wooden hanger it has always rested on.

It takes her no more than three minutes to put it on, although the back is left unzipped. Looking down at her long gown, the mother of pearl shining brightly at her eyes, she takes a deep breath and feel the texture. Turning around she checks if it still looks great and is greeted by a beautiful, tall, curved figure looking back at her. The light mother of pearl makes her skin look two tones more tan than she usually is, the dress fits perfectly, she feels like she's Cinderella, transformed from a dirty unfortunate girl into a beautiful princess, just for this one night. She's never looked so beautiful.

Laughing, she takes slow steps toward the night stand and bows, gracefully holding the glass of wine, smiling at the wall like the wine was elegantly offered.

She bring the glass to her lips, turning around.

It's chocolate milk she tastes then.

Her terrified eyes stare back from the mirror, red and swollen, her hair is an unruly mass tied on top of her head, her breast is exposed on the side the dress hangs open. Annie is a ghost pleading for help.

So she cries, falling to the ground and holding her face in her hands, because nothing makes sense anymore. Nobody haunts her thoughts anymore, not her father, not her mother, not anything else. The only ghost hunting her now is herself and what she might do if she doesn't take control of all this mess.

She lays on the ground, curled up like a small animal in between the sheets of Taffeta and Silk, not able to stand up yet, aware she is getting close to the point of no return.

The End

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Note: Thank you for reading. I am working on a sequence for Intro to Coping s/8629813/1/Intro-to-Coping and Defense Strategies s/9220370/1/Defense-Strategies and will start posting once I get to about the middle of it.


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